by Anna Lowe
Love was like that too, but in a good way, she mused. Like her love for Joey. Her love for Cal that had held up over so many years. Her love of her packmates — yes, her packmates, right down to the infuriating Dell.
She found herself smiling, but it faded quickly as she thought things through. Any of her packmates would die for her or Joey. Was she prepared to do the same for them?
Her heart twisted at the thought of leaving Joey an orphan. He’d been through so much already. But even if it came to the worst, he would have the others. He would have love…and memories.
For the space of a few heartbeats, sorrow consumed her. But then she bared her teeth and focused on the she-dragon who’d orchestrated so many attacks on the people Cynthia loved.
Her cousin cackled. Oh, Cynthia. You’re a princess, not a warrior. Don’t even try.
Cynthia inhaled, letting her anger form a bubble inside. Princess might fit her upbringing, but fate had long since reshaped her path. As for being a warrior — well, she might not have the Special Forces training of her friends, but she was a mother, and that gave her a whole different kind of power.
Moira has destroyed so much, and she will destroy more if she isn’t stopped, a little voice whispered in her mind.
Cynthia shot a long lick of fire at her cousin.
She fooled you into letting Cal go, the voice continued.
She flapped her wings, gaining altitude.
She wants to take your child away from you.
She roared and dove at Moira. No, she won’t.
Moira’s guards all dive-bombed at her, but Cynthia focused on the embers that burned deep within her dragon soul. Her blood rushed as she summoned threads of fire from every part of her body until they formed a huge, swirling ball in her lungs. Then, with the mightiest breath of her life, she released it all.
Moira screamed and rolled. Cynthia followed relentlessly, blasting Moira with flames. But the guards were right on her tail, about to catch her in a pentagram of fire, so Cynthia twisted in midair and aimed at them instead.
The next few minutes went by in a blur of ear-splitting roars and thunderous wingbeats. Cynthia had the vague sensation of an ache in her right wing and the sting of sweat in her eyes. Blood dripped from her talons, and she wasn’t sure whose it was. She didn’t care either. She raged on, channeling her inner power. Power that came from the heart, from the life-force of her ancestors, and from some strange sensation she traced to… Her ankle? It was tingling intensely. Was something wrong with her pearls or had she been burned there? In the heat of the fight, she didn’t have time to check.
The dives, rolls, and twists she’d learned from Connor kept her a hairbreadth ahead of the enemy. When a dragon appeared out of nowhere, spitting fire at her wings, she rolled out of the way. Another evaded her raking claws only to stray into her line of fire, and it plummeted toward the ground. How she found the energy to fight them all, Cynthia didn’t know. Only that it had something to do with the heat building around her ankle.
When she glanced down, she was startled to see a glowing ring of bluish-white light coming from her pearls. Which seemed significant, but she didn’t have time to process the notion just then. Not with another dragon approaching from the side, blasting fire.
She rolled, turned, and returned fire until it all became a blur. In the throes of that wild aerial dogfight, she lost track of Moira. Heat vents blasted from below, adding to the confusion. Somewhere to the right, Cynthia noticed a long line of fire — a river of lava flowing crimson in the darkness of night.
Watch out! a voice roared in her mind.
She spun just in time to fend off an oncoming dragon, then whipped around to face the next one, opening her jaws wide to release another burst of fire.
Stop! a familiar voice cried.
She blinked at the hazel eyes before her. Connor?
Whoa, he sputtered, backing away. Yes, it’s me. And that’s Jenna over there. He jerked his head up and to the right. Try not to kill us, will you? Just the bad guys.
Cynthia nodded and rolled back to face the others. But the tight phalanx of dragons had divided into two groups. One of Moira’s mercenaries had turned tail to flee, chased by Jenna. Another two lay scorched and lifeless on the ravaged terrain below. One swooped in from overhead, attacking her.
I’ve got this bastard, Connor barked into her mind. You get Moira.
Cynthia broke away, searching the darkness intently. Sure enough, Moira was slinking away, protected from the rear by the last of her guards. Cynthia beat her wings, racing after them.
Don’t let her go, the voice called to her.
Not Connor’s voice, nor her dragon’s. She faltered slightly when she realized who that was.
Barnaby, she whispered.
A lump filled her throat, blocking the flow of fire. She flew on, consumed by grief. There’d been too many losses, too much suffering. Too much pain caused to the people she loved.
So, end it, Barnaby’s spirit whispered. Avenge me, and live on. You and the man you deserve.
She could have crumpled to the ground and sobbed. Barnaby was a good man, yet she’d never loved him as much as he deserved.
All that matters is you. Joey. The future, he assured her. Then his voice dropped into a near growl. And Moira. End her, once and for all. End her!
Cynthia took a deep breath, unsheathed her talons, and sprinted after Moira.
The mercenary guarding Moira turned as Cynthia approached, but she steamrolled him in a relentless flood of fire. He tumbled through the air then plummeted. Cynthia didn’t pause to watch him crash, but she heard the hiss of a heat vent and an ensuing cry. An instant later, her nostrils filled with the scent of singed leather. Another enemy was dead.
You bitch! Moira screamed, circling back the way they’d come.
Cynthia didn’t waste a breath to reply. Beating her wings hard, she dashed after Moira.
You can’t! Moira cried, hurtling to one side. Fueled by desperation, she managed to elude Cynthia’s next three attacks. Moira’s eyes darted all over, looking for reinforcements that didn’t come.
No one will come for her, Cynthia’s dragon growled.
The contrast was striking, because Cynthia had an entire pack on her side. Connor and Jenna had raced all the way over to the Big Island to help her, and the rest of the pack was on Maui, protecting Joey. Cal was with them, and even Barnaby’s spirit was at her side.
She closed her eyes briefly, counting her blessings. All that love. All that loyalty. She almost felt sorry for Moira.
Not sorry enough, her dragon snipped, speeding after Moira.
The first flame she spat singed her cousin’s tail. The second made Moira turn right, and the third—
Moira twisted in a shockingly fast move and snapped at Cynthia’s wingtip. Cynthia almost veered right, but an echo of the past sounded in her head.
There’s an even better move, Connor had once said.
Without thinking, she folded her wing against her body and rolled. An instant later, she dropped directly beneath Moira, flicked her wings open, and shot upward, spitting fire.
No! Moira screamed. She turned away, only to expose her left wing to the blast of fire. She half fell, half fluttered to the ground, just missing the river of lava. Cynthia followed, landing on the jagged earth two body lengths away. She panted, amazed at the move she’d just executed.
Execute, her dragon murmured. Good word.
Moira dragged her wounded wing, backing away in haste. Her eyes were wide, and her tail lashed from side to side.
Cynthia watched closely, but the only tricks Moira had left relied on words.
You can’t. Leave me alone.
Cynthia showed her teeth. The way you’ve left me alone?
I’ll make it up to you, Moira cried, glancing at the molten lava that cut off her escape.
Cynthia roared. You can never make up for what you’ve done, whom you’ve killed, or the pain you’ve inflicted. Never.
Moira shifted to human form and held up her arms to plead. Well — she held up her right arm. The left lay singed and useless at her side. But if she thought she could appeal to Cynthia’s mercy, she had another thing coming.
“You can’t. You can’t kill me,” Moira tried.
“Watch me,” Cynthia growled aloud, stalking closer.
“But I’m hurt. See?” Moira gestured meekly.
Wings flapped overhead, and Cynthia looked up. It was Connor, thank goodness, along with Jenna, who was—
Watch out! Jenna screamed.
Cynthia scuttled backward as Moira made a lightning-fast shift back into dragon form.
Die, Moira cried, blasting Cynthia with a well-aimed burst of fire.
Cynthia scrambled back, barely avoiding a vent. Then rage bubbled through her soul, and the heat around her ankle intensified. Roaring, she counterattacked. Their flames collided, making them both stagger. A moment later, each she-dragon renewed the force behind her flames. Cynthia found herself inching forward, driving Moira backward across the ground. Slowly at first, then faster, until Moira teetered on the very edge of the molten lava.
No! Moira screamed, flapping her wings desperately.
But it was too late, and a moment later—
Cynthia forced herself to watch as Moira plummeted into the lava. An ungodly scream pierced the air when she hit the molten river, and the sickening smell of burning leather filled the air. Within seconds, all that remained visible was the ashy tip of a dragon’s wing. Then it, too, it sank out of view. The lava bubbled, then smoothed over and flowed toward the sea.
Cynthia’s pulse hammered away, and the only sound was the hiss of red-hot lava vaporizing against the ocean. Was that it? Was Moira really gone?
Cynthia slumped, unable to rejoice. She’d just killed another living being — her cousin, no less. Slowly, she rose into the air, joining Connor and Jenna as they rushed to her side. No one said a word. They just glided in weary circles, studying the river of lava below. Surely, this was another of Moira’s tricks. She had to be down there somewhere, hiding among the rocks, right?
Connor swept down to search more closely, and he returned with a grim look.
She’s gone, all right. You did it, Cynthia.
Still, she circled, not quite ready to accept that. Shouldn’t she feel terrible about killing her own cousin? Could there have been a better way?
But the answers were no and no, and she knew it. Slowly, she cut away from the lava fields to follow Connor and Jenna, who were already flying toward Maui. Her mouth was ashy, her throat scorched. Her body so, so tired. When she glanced back to make sure no one followed, her gaze caught on a flash of light at her ankle. At first, she just blinked uncomprehendingly. Her pearls?
She remembered fastening her pearl necklace there before shifting, but they’d been their usual eggshell color at the time. Now, the one in the middle was glowing with a bright bluish-white light, sending heat through her body in waves. A good form of heat that gave her the energy to go on when she had every right to crumple to the ground in exhaustion.
Jenna circled back. Are you doing okay? We could—
The words cut off as she spotted the pearl.
Your pearls… Jenna breathed. They’re glowing.
Cynthia nodded slowly. Not all of them, no. But the middle one sure was.
Connor circled back, and his eyes lit up too. When he spoke, his voice was a hush in her mind. Is that what I think it is?
She nearly scoffed. What did Connor mean? Those were just her pearls, right?
Then it hit her that maybe the power that had fueled her throughout the battle wasn’t simply the power of an enraged mother. Maybe it had been the pearl. But what kind of pearl pulsed with energy and light, filling its bearer with supernatural power?
A pearl of desire, she remembered Jenna whispering once upon a time, cupping the pearl she’d discovered off the shore at Koakea beach.
Hailey had worn the same look of utter wonder when she’d discovered her pearl, as had Anjali and Sophie when their times came.
Now, your time has come, a deep, unearthly voice whispered in her mind.
But how could she possibly possess a pearl of desire? She blinked in sheer exhaustion. Maybe she was just imagining things.
But Connor and Jenna really were staring, and the pearl shone so brightly, she swore it was winking at her.
Cynthia tucked her leg up under her body, moving the pearls out of sight. Right now, she was unable to process anything but the thought of getting home. She eyed the distance, dreading the trip already.
Get yourself home, Barnaby said gently. To Joey. To your mate.
Cynthia forced her mouth into a straight line because otherwise, she might cry.
You were always so good to me, she whispered, hoping that really was Barnaby’s spirit and not just another illusion in her poor, exhausted mind.
You deserve no less, he said. Then he sighed, and she felt him slip into the distance. Now, go home. Start over. Find the man destiny intended for you all along.
She swallowed hard and flapped her wings, heading home. Connor and Jenna flanked her, but they kept edging forward, then hanging back for her.
Um… I think I’ll go ahead, Connor murmured. He glanced at Jenna, and a silent conversation passed between them. Just in case.
Sure, Jenna replied. Her normally upbeat tone was tight, though.
Cynthia frowned as Connor shot off. In case of what?
Tentatively, she reached her mind toward Cal and Joey, ready to break the good news that Moira was gone.
But the moment she made the mental connection, she cried in alarm. Cal was fighting fiercely, though she couldn’t identify his foe. Joey was crouched nearby with fear and determination swirling through his mind. Fire burst through the air, and the ground shook.
“Cal… Joey…” She couldn’t risk the distraction of calling to them directly, but she did croak their names into the wind.
Jenna glanced over, and her eyes said it all. The battle wasn’t over. It had only begun.
Chapter Eighteen
“Down,” Cal grunted as a trio of dragons hurtled at him.
Joey hit the dirt, and Cal lay over him, covering them both with a cloak. In the darkness of that cover, he strained for every sound. The air whistled as three huge dragons raced by, roaring and spurting fire in long, deadly flames. Then came the whipping sound of tails and the heavy beat of wings, signaling that the dragons had flown past, having failed to locate their prey.
Cal counted three of Joey’s shallow breaths, then threw the cloak back and grabbed for the trigger of his ballista.
“Stay down,” he muttered.
Joey, thank goodness, did as he was told. He clutched the cloak, looking at it with huge, innocent eyes.
My dad gave this to you? Joey had asked moments earlier, looking on in horror when Cal sliced it in two.
Cal swung the ballista, following the dragons with the tip of the spear as the past rushed through his mind. Not only had Barnaby given him that fireproof cloak — one of many items from his huge, glittering treasure hoard — he’d trusted Cal with secrets too. Like where a dragon’s most vulnerable point lay.
Oh, you mean here? Cal had grunted in reply, grabbing a silver sword and swinging it directly against Barnaby’s chest.
Yes, right there, Barnaby had replied without blinking an eye.
The stare-off that ensued was as epic a battle of wills as any physical fight Cal had ever been in. He couldn’t believe Barnaby’s nerve. Was the dragon really trusting him — a lone wolf with every reason to despise the man who’d stolen his mate — not to plunge that sword deep and go for the kill?
Yes. Yes, I am trusting you, Barnaby’s eyes had said.
In the end, Cal had no choice but to lower his weapon and give in. There would be no honor in killing Barnaby and no happy end for himself and Cynthia. All Cal could do was accept the cloak along with Barnaby’s challenge to do the right thing
.
He followed the dragons’ movements with steely eyes, forcing himself to focus. All the threads spun by fate were coming together after twelve long, lonely years. Him. Cynthia. Barnaby.
“Kravik,” Cal added, muttering under his breath.
That bastard was responsible for so much evil in the world — evil that Kravik was intent on spreading over a new continent after being shunned by the shifter establishment in Europe. Cal had already hated the dragon, but now, he hated Kravik more for forcing him to slice his most prized possession — the cloak — in half.
“Bastard,” he grunted.
The evil dragon couldn’t have heard him, but he might have sensed the challenge in Cal’s words, because he spun around for another pass, flanked by his henchmen. The trio swooped over the bowl etched into the mountainside, keeping low to the ground. The perfect target for a ballista, really, except for one thing.
Cal cursed as the dragon on the left nosed ahead of Kravik, blocking a clear shot. Still, he yanked on the trigger, letting the spear fly.
It was amazing, how much force could be generated with a few levers and some torsion springs. The hardwood spear ripped through the air and then through the dragon’s scales. The beast screamed and lurched, slamming into his master.
Cal would have loved to watch as that dragon crashed to his death against the ground, while the other two tumbled through the air, wondering what had hit them. Instead, he grabbed Joey and ran, deliberately making a bush sway. Then he dove behind a rock and covered himself and Joey with both pieces of the cloak just in time.
Whoosh! A burst of fire incinerated the bush, and a dragon screamed in fury. Heat buffeted them, but Cal held on to the cloak, keeping one arm curled around Joey. Crackles filled the air as vegetation burned, and it was hard to breathe. But as long as he and Joey remained covered, they were safe.
Cal strained for the heavier crack of burning wood, but there was none. Which meant the dragons hadn’t noticed the launcher under its camouflage net.
Three…two…one…
He counted down, then peeked at Joey.
“You remember what I told you, partner?”
